Hitting the Beaches
by silverphantom
Summary: It took aeons... BUT CH.4 IS UP! - During the "Brood Wars" campaign, a more "realistic" view of futuristic warefare when a 'typical' planetary invasion takes a fateful turn for an unlucky dropship pilot and the compliment of Marines stored within...
1. New Orders

Disclaimer: All vehicles and species etc (anything that comes from Starcraft) are property of Blizzard Inc. and NOT mine … and uh… same as all the other stuff that everybody else puts in their disclaimers.

Okay, so… this is my first fan-fiction writing… this is chapter one so excuse the lack of action… have to introduce characters etc… Also, I've deviated from traditional Starcraft genre, as I like my writing to be realistic (or as realistic as futuristic space warfare can be) so naturally, humans aren't born age 19 with rifle in hand in barracks etc in my stories, so therefore humans are harder to kill because they don't grow on trees. Also, more emphasis on tactical actions than in game (Operations etc not just random killing) so yeah, enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW, honest opinions… it's the only way I can improve, thanks ;)

* * *

Hitting the Beaches

_Chapter 1: New Orders _

"Zulu One, this is Global." The radio squawked through Lt. John "Sparky" Evans helmet. He cringed and hastily adjusted the volume.

"Global, Zulu One, go ahead." Evans spoke into his mike, Global was the call sign for the Battlecruiser _Reciprocity_, who was in command of today's landings, and command status meant you didn't keep them waiting when they wanted to talk.

"Our receivers are picking up an emergency beacon originating from the surface; it's one of ours, frequency one-zero-zero-four point two. You're the closest group to the source. Our manifest shows your group as twelve strong with compliments of Marines and Goliaths, confirm." The controller spoke rapid fire with a cold and slightly mechanical tone.

"I _hate_ being the last group." Lt. Evans co-pilot, 2Lt. Steven "Charlie" Marley hissed grumpily from the seat to Evan's left, "Just watch, they're going to make us check it out."

"Roger that Global, combined group total is three-zero-zero Marines and two-four Goliaths, A-Class." Sparky sighed as he waited for the order he knew was coming.

"Zulu One, take one additional ship and make your way to the beacon, we are dispatching half a squadron of Wraiths to cover you. Your orders are to proceed to the site, orbit and report back. Your new call sign is Rover. Transmitting new navigation files now. Global out."

"Told you." Charlie grumbled depressingly.

"Zulu One and Zulu… Twelve," Sparky randomly picked, answering with an equally depressing tone in his voice, "Confirms call sign Rover." _Sure_, he thought, _it's easy to give orders when you're not the one that's going into enemy-held territory._ Switching to his inter-squadron frequency, "Zulu Two, this is Zulu Lead, new orders. Myself and Zulu Twelve are going off exploring; you're to continue leading the rest of the squadron down to the 'Beaches', good luck. Zulu Twelve, come left four-five degrees and join on my wing." Two sets of two clicks through his headset meant both orders were acknowledged. Rolling his control column left, Sparky settled into the new heading his computer was now displaying for him. To his right he could still see the other three hundred and ten dropships of the first wave of the _Reciprocity_ Battle Group in their squadron size formations heading down to the surface, their long line reaching out to the horizon. The tiny little specks weaving in and out signified the scores of Wraiths that were flying cover for the massive landing force. Craning his head to look upward, Evans could see the blue-yellow sunlight glinting off the hundred some Valkyrie missile frigates that were being held back for support. Over 7,000 men were heading down to the 'Beaches' this…morning… and almost double that number was to land in the second wave. Every single dropship in the _Reciprocity_ fleet was in use, and nearly every Wraith and Valkyrie was airborne… The Admiralty were expecting quite a show today.

"Captain Arthurs to the flight deck." Charlie said over the dropship's intercom, before looking at his pilot, "You know, they always pick on us just because we're at the back… I mean, just because we're the 608th Zany Zulu's doesn't mean we always have to go at the back! You never see them telling Alpha Group to break off, or Kilo Group!"

"Do you want a transfer to the 522nd Attacking Alpha's? Those guys go through new pilots and ships like there's no tomorrow, they'd be glad to have you." Evans paused for the remarks to sink in, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather be at the back of an invasion than the front." he laughed as an exosuited marine entered their already cramped cockpit.

"Well flyboys, what's going on?" The deep voice of Captain Arthurs questioned.

"There's some emergency beacon that's squawking somewhere down there," Sparky said, thumbing towards the ugly brown and black surface outside the windscreen, "Our orders are to orbit the site, and report back to Global."

"So they can have you land us there," Arthurs spoke, clearly not happy.

"Hey I don't give orders Captain, I follow them." Sparky replied with a reluctant shrug.

"All right, give me a head's up when we get close." Arthurs hissed and walked back to the hold.

"See," Charlie said, leaning over in his seat, "Even he hates being the last guy."

"Oh give it a res-"

"Rover flight of two, this Raptor Lead, we're coming up on your three o'clock, we're you're escorts." A care free voice hissed out. Turning to their right, both pilots could make out the six deadly y-shaped Wraith fighters heading towards them.

"Good to see you Raptor Lead, always nice to have company when one's going down to an unknown area of a hostile planet in a hostile system, particularly…" Sparky squinted, focusing on the three, large barrel laser cannons on each of the Wraith's wings, "…company with big guns." The reply was laughter,

"Do I hear a touch of anxiety in your voice Rover?" Raptor One answered back.

"Just wanting to make sure I get home in one piece, Raptor."

------------break------------

In his cramped cockpit of Raptor Zero-One, Captain Mike "Shrike" Winters smiled underneath his oxygen mask. Transport pilots were a special breed of men, he thought, anyone willing to fly those slow moving bathtubs into enemy fire had courage beyond limits… or they were just plain stupid… probably the latter he thought with a chuckle. Upon reaching the two large, but elegantly curved dropships, his half squadron broke into three two-ship formations and formed a three point triangle around the slow transports. His radar screen showed no contacts, and he took the time to survey the rocky, jagged landscape of the planet's surface. He wasn't surprised by the deep canyons and rocky outcroppings that stood everywhere, something supposedly swarming with Zerg had a right to look ugly. A blinking yellow light went off on his console and pulled him back into the fighter. _Damnit_, Winters thought, _I thought I told them to check engine two's hydraulics_. Quickly summing up the severity of the problem Winters turn the warning light off; there wasn't anything serious enough to make him bug out just yet. Besides, they were going away from the 'Beaches', that's where all the action would surely be. Looking out now to the two transports, he caught the squadron markings painted onto the T-boom tail of the lead dropship. _608 Zany Zulu's_, he smiled_, who in their right mind would name a squadron that?_

------------break------------

The relative peace and quiet lasted roughly twenty minutes as the eight ships rumbled towards their destination. Then procedures started to kick in.

"Fifty kilometers to the signal origin, time to eyeball." Charlie said, glancing at the readouts on his radar screen.

"Roger," Sparky answered before thumbing his radio mike, "Raptor Lead, Rover Lead, we're fifty clicks from the objective, but… uh… we're not sure what's there..." Sparky called out easing back on his throttles and bringing the large dropship into a hover a few kilometers above the planet's scared surface. Craning his head out his left view port, he could see Zulu Twelve, err, Rover Two doing the same.

"Copy that Rover, we'll take a look-see for you." Sparky almost heard the mockery over the radio, _damn smart-ass fighter jocks_, Evans thought, _let's see you avoid ambushes and ground fire in this bird_. Coming suddenly into his forward view two of the Wraiths rocketed by, accelerating quickly with a sonic boom that echoed through the thickly armoured cockpit. The lead one rolled twice before both dived towards the ground for their reconnaissance run.

"Show-offs", Sparky muttered.

"Big engines to make up for small dicks." Charlie agreed, smiling.

Several minutes later Raptor Lead's voice came over the radio again, "Site checks out Rover… we have visual on the beacon, on some sort of plateau… don't have anything else on screens or visual. Whatever put it there, it's gone now."

"Roger, wait one." Sparky answered as he switched over to the Battle Group's frequency, "Global, Rover, come in." The reply was the same cold mechanical voice as before… if anything, it was more mechanical now. Meanwhile, Charlie once again summoned Captain Arthurs to the flight deck.

"Rover flight of two, go ahead."

"Uh… we're orbiting fifty kilometers from the site. Our escorts did a quick fly over and have eyes on the beacon, and nothing else in sight or on radar." Sparky said, he already knew what was coming next.

"Copy that, Rover you are to advance to the site and land your payload, they are to recover the beacon and ascertain how it got there. Upon completion, retrieve your compliment and return to the _Reciprocity_. Global out." The flight deck door hissed as Arthurs entered once again.

"Good news Captain," Charlie grinned, "You can tell your troops to stop throwing up back there, you get to feel the ground again real soon." Arthurs grunted and stared fiercely at the co-pilot before looking towards Lt. Evans.

"It's true, Captain, you're to retrieve to the beacon and do a little investigation, you know just pick up a few rocks and make some shit up, get back on board and we all go back ship-side. Rover Two heard the same orders so they'll be landing too. Oh, and their senior officer is injured, so the 2IC, a lieutenant, is running the show over there. That puts you in overall command, any questions?" Sparky said as he turned on his terrain-following computer and prepped his ship for the drop.

"You talk to all senior officers this way sonny?" Arthurs growled. But sparkly only faced him and grinned, "Only when their on my ship… pops. Now you might want to get strapped in, a bit of fun flying coming up." Again the Captain stormed out and both pilots tightened their straps as Charlie reached up to throw a switch on the roof panel. Twenty feet behind him, the red "Drop Imminent" light glowed into existence and all twenty five Marines hastily tightened their straps too. Back in the cockpit, Evans toggled his computer and the low-level terrain following display was projected onto his helmet visor. Pushing his four throttles forward he eased his column down and the transport accelerated towards the ground, engines growling deeply. Rover Two followed close behind, and above, the six Wraiths, Raptor Lead and Two having returned, widened their formation and dived in after the transports, which were now hurtling towards the rocky surface.

_Here we go_, thought Sparky.

* * *

What did you think of Chapter 1? Please Review… and I'll have Chapter 2 posted ASAP, thanks ;)

-silverphantom


	2. First Contact

Disclaimer: All vehicles and species etc (anything that comes from Starcraft) are property of Blizzard Inc. and NOT mine … and uh… same as all the other stuff that everybody else puts in their disclaimers.

Hello again, this is CHAPTER 2 of my little series, "Hitting the Beaches". This continues on from Chapter 1 so if you didn't read it you probably won't get much. Once again I want to point out I deviate from traditional "Starcraft" lines, Zerg easy to kill, humans hard, (see chapter 1 preface for reasoning). I don't actually have the manual handy so ill be making up unit designations like the "A-17/G" Wraith or the G-2B Goliath as I go along so bear with me… as before I'm always open to criticism so please give honest opinions. Thanks, R&R

BTW: Chap2. is longer than Chap1. - you've been warned.

* * *

Hitting the Beaches

_Chapter 2: First Contact_

_ Damn_, "Shrike" Winters thought as he watched the leading dropship, Rover One, roll vertical to squeeze through another rocky canyon as the second dropship followed perfectly behind. Right behind the second dropship, Shrike's six very nimble and small A-17/C Wraiths followed through the canyon with relative ease compared to the harrying experience that the pilots of those two colossus flying bathtubs were imposing on themselves. _I think I've discovered why they don't put windows on the transports_, Winters thought with a chuckle, _if those Marines inside had ANY idea of what they were doing… they'd probably have all shot themselves by now._

"You know, I'm aware doctrine says that we're to fly low when making 'hot' landings, to avoid Protoss sensors or Zerg scouts and all that jazz… but don't you think these guys are taking that a little extreme?" Raptor Two, Winter's wingman asked over the radio, as the two transports banked so tightly around a rock face, Shrike was sure the two ships would be missing paint. _Do all transport pilots fly like this?_ _No wonder so many go down, it's not the enemy, it's the damn guys they got flying them._ Shrike wondered in realization as the eight ships continued to rocket along the ugly, rocky terrain of Mynor VI.

* * *

"Twenty clicks to the drop site Sparky, time to start-Jesus! Watch that cliff!" Second Lieutenant "Charlie" Marley cringed in fear as the heavily loaded dropship just barely skimmed the top of another jagged ridge line. But in the left seat, the usually calm Lieutenant John Evans was frantically pounding his computer console in dire effort to take the ship off automatic pilot.

"This is not good, this is not good, the damn thing's locked up, she's not responding to me!" Evans cried, whose comment caused Charlie to look at him in concern as Rover Two's near panicked voice yelped over the radio,

"What the hell you doing up there Sparky? You're going to get us fucking killed here!" Brining himself back under control, Sparky answered back,

"Uh… I think I might have missed a decimal place typing in the maximum flying height for the autopilot… it was supposed to be two meters, but…uh… I'm showing _point_ two meters." Evans replied hesitantly as his co-pilot looked at him in shock, "I don't think that type of number was meant to be used with the terrain following computer… and it's frozen up on me, I can't shut it off…"

"You did _WHAT?!_ " Rover Two replied as the two ships squeezed through another canyon, "Well you better find a way to shut it off, because I'm stuck to your ass, goddamn wingman links I _knew_ they were going to be trouble." Rover Two continued, referring to the brand new software installed into the fleet's dropships, which slaved all other autopilots to the lead ship's computer, supposedly to increase efficiency of low level flying… _something to write a memo about_, thought Sparky as he continued to play with his computer console, finally resulting in bashing it with his fist.

_ SCREEE!_ The sound echoed through the transport's interior as the hull finally made contact with a rock outcropping that the autopilot's radar seemed to have missed. This finally pushed Sparky to option "C". He pulled out his six-inch standard issue knife from his thigh sheath,

"Uh… wait a minute Sparky, that probably isn't such a good id-" Charlie blurted in vain as Evans stabbed the blade into the autopilot console. The reward was a fountain of white hot sparks until the transport's safety mechanisms shut down power the autopilot section of the instrument panel. Immediately the large ship's tail started skidding to the right but Sparky's first action was to yank back on the control coloumn, launching the loaded dropship skyward before standing on the right rudder pedal to swing the transport back on course.

"Mother of Kerrigan! What the hell just happened up there?" Rover Two squawked as he frantically regained control of his ship and moved back towards his leader. The reply was in the typical, poorly placed humour than made Lt. John Evans personality,

"We just made fifty marines lose their breakfast."

* * *

To the six Wraiths following behind the large transports, the scene was absolutely hilarious. The radio chatter had almost all six fighter pilots laughing their heads off, but the sudden, erratic maneuvers of the two dropships was like watching a teenager learn to drive a land speeder for the first time and made their sides splits and brought tears to their eyes. In his cramped cockpit, "Shrike" Winters smiled at the ignorant misfortune of the two pilots ahead of him, _that'll teach you to trust your computers instead of flying like real men_.

* * *

Now that the two transports flight paths were stabilized, albeit fifty meters higher than previously, the final kilometers to the drop zone went quickly.

"We're getting close," Charlie said, leaning forward and glaring fiercely into his computer display, "Looks like the source is… two o'clock, one kilometer." Looking to his right Sparky gazed upon a flat clearing amid a few rolling hills. A beam of sunlight hit something, and a metallic glint from the center of the clearing caught his attention. Thumbing his radio,

"Raptor Lead, I have eyes of the beacon, it's in the clearing, two o'clock, so if you wouldn't mind some CAP cover would be nice. Rover Two, follow me once around for a better view."

"Roger that Rover, Raptor flight, break into pairs and execute a lazy orbit around the clearing, altitude one hundred meters." Winter's voice answered back over the radio as Sparky banked into a right turn while looking over the clearing.

"What do you think Rover Two?" Sparky asked.

"Well I'll be damned, looks like we've actually got a decent landing zone for once, whoever set that beacon up knew what we like."

"My thoughts exactly," Sparky smiled, "Winds are light from the north so bring her around once more, ill land on the right, you to the left of the beacon. Sensors showing up nothing else down there so this landing is 'cold'." Hearing the two clicks of acknowledgement of in his headset Sparky swung his tail around and brought his nose into the northerly winds. Pressing four buttons the massive spotlights on the bottom of the dropship lit up, smothering the clearing in white light.

"Gear." Sparky said concentrating on the clearing ahead as his co-pilot made the transport ready to land. Charlie pulled down on the landing gear lever and thumbed another switch which turned the cargo bay red "drop imminent" light to the green "drop now" light. All twenty five Marines and the two Goliath pilots sealed and pressurized their suits and machines.

"Gear down, check four and locked." Charlie responded as the transport vibrated four times.

"Hatches." Sparky said, focused on the landing ground, _twenty five meters_.

"Rear doors secure but unlocked."

"Thrust vectoring."

"All nozzles ninety degrees down." His copilot answered as Evans gently adjusted his throttles, his transport now hovering and descending at the proper glide slope.

"Interior pressure." _Fifteen meters_.

"Cabin doors secure and locked, venting cargo bay atmosphere now." Charlie flipped the clear safety cover off a red button and held it down as a muffled hiss could be heard from behind the sealed cockpit doors. "Bay atmosphere equalized, good to land Sparky." _Ten meters_, Evans thought as he pulled back a bit more on the throttles, bringing his transport down vertically. _Five meters,_ the altimeter displayed.

_ THUD,_ the two rear gear touched down first, causing the nose to drop faster than normal and slam into the ground with a heavy vibration.

* * *

Captain Arthurs felt the transport at first touch and then slam into the ground before hitting the quick release button on his four point harness. The massive rear doors dropped before he could get out of his seat and gave the Captain his first real view of the Mynor VI's surface. Grabbing his C-14 rifle he quickly ran to the edge of the ramp as the other twenty four Marines seated along the sides of the hollow cargo bay hit their releases, grabbed their rifles and started running down the ramp and onto the rocky surface. Arthurs counted and as soon as he hit twenty four he too ran down to join his Marines in setting up the perimeter. The Marines now out of the way the two Goliaths stored one behind the other at the far end of the bay could finally lumber down the ramp and onto the surface. Arthurs checked the time display on his visor, the entire process has taken three minutes, _not bad_, he thought. To his right, the second dropship was just touching down, the massive four TitanVII engines blowing rocks and gravel into his men. Turning he could see his men diving into the prone position about twenty meters from their transport, rifles pointed outward. The two large Goliaths lumbered awkwardly on their two legs, their two twenty millimeter chainguns spinning as their top halves rotated independently of the bottom, looking out for targets. The low _whump_ to his right signified the ramp on the second transport dropping and turning once more, Arthurs watched twenty five more Marines run full speed out of the "safety" of the transport and onto the surface, quickly taking up their own perimeter positions. One of the Marines came quickly toward him. The two golden stripes on his suit signified him as a Lieutenant.

"My team is deployed, what now Sir?"

* * *

"Rover this is Raptor Lead, nothing on our sensors, everything looks clean." Reported the Wraiths circling several hundred feet overhead. In his cockpit 'Sparky' Evans looked out his canopy a saw no fewer than eight marines on the ground in front of his dropship. To his right he could see a Goliath walking slowly in circles, always rotating so his weapons were facing outwards.

"The perimeter is secure flyboys." Captain Arthurs voice hissed over the radio.

"Well then if you've got your fire and marshmallows ready, we're going to shut down here to save fuel." Sparky answered as he transferred to battery power and Charlie began to shut down the transport's four engines. A few dozen meters to the left, Rover Two was doing the same. As the last engine whined down into silence Evans pulled off his helmet and reclined in his seat.

"Well," he said to his co-pilot, stretching out his legs against the rudder pedals and put his hands behind his head, "things look pretty secure, might as well catch up on some sleep."

"You know," Charlie answered, reclining as well, "I guess I was wrong, this might not have been such a bad tasking after all."

* * *

On the ground Captain Arthurs was with Lieutenant Morebery taking their first look at the beacon that had dragged them from the rest of the invasion force and out here into the middle of nowhere. The beacon itself was only about twenty by thirty centimeters, but it was resting on a specialized meter-tall tripod to increase the signal strength to interplanetary distances.

"Standard beacon, C-class, an older model, but it has one mother of a range thanks to this tripod." The Lieutenant said, scanning the device with a portable sensor pad as a pair of Wraiths rocketed by overhead, their engines whining loudly.

"So why the hell didn't the fleet pick up this signal prior to the invasion?" Arthurs questioned.

"Battery is almost dead on it, another twenty four hours and we could have flown right over it and not heard anything. Whoever set it up went to great lengths to make sure they would be found." Morebery said solemnly.

"And almost weren't… so where are they?"

"Well, probably dead, or somewhere else at the-"

"No they're not, someone's nearby." The captain said before turning to a group of marines on the south edge of the perimeter. "Sgt. Clarkins! Take your squad on a patrol, no more than two kilometers from here, report anything out of the ordinary." The marine Sgt. stood up, and with a quick 'yes sir' moved off with four other marines out of the clearing and over the nearest hill. But Lieutenant Morebery was still confused,

"How can you be so sure someone's here? You heard the Wraith's sensor reports just like I did, they said nothings around." Shouldering his rifle, Captain Arthurs leaned over to the beacon and stared fiercely at the small device's thin metal skin.

"Look at it. Look's just like new… a windy planet with nothing but rocks, dirt and gravel and not a trace of dust on it. Something's been cleaning it off and rather recently too. Hmm…" He though still examining the skin, "No unit markings either, usually these display the patch of the unit they came from, in case this is found when the people who set them up aren't, but this one hasn't got anything, not even a serial number." A light scratching sound drew the Captain's attention to his right. Looking around, all he could see was a small rock. Looking again he saw a hole in the dirt right beside the rock; something had just moved it. _Something's here_, he thought. Brining his rifle off his shoulder he looked even more carefully at the nearby ground. At first there was nothing, then, _there_, Arthurs thought as he saw a faint pattern in the dirt, almost like a boot tread. Then another one suddenly appeared, to the right of the old one, then another, and another circling around him. _At least it's humanoid_, Arthurs thought, _unless the Zerg wear boots now_.

* * *

"What is it sir?" Lt. Morebery asked uneasily, storing his sensor pad and taking up his rifle as he watched the Captain grab his. But the officer didn't say anything to answer him. Slowly, Morebery watched the Captain take out his knife with his left hand. By now the Lieutenant was trembling… this was his first combat mission, and now his on-site commander was going crazy. He had only one thing to do. Walking over to relieve the Captain of command he watched, astonished, as the officer suddenly dived to the right, knife hand outstretched and shouting fiercely over marine's intercom channel._

* * *

_

_ Got you_. Arthurs thought as he watched the moving boot prints stop. Not waiting, he shifted his weight and dove towards the prints hoping to stab the intruder through the chest. _This is too easy_, he thought.

* * *

The Lieutenant watched, stunned, as the Captain seemed to fly almost gracefully, and then suddenly drop straight down to the ground with an audible "_oof" _as if someone had smashed him from above. Instantly the Captain threw himself back onto his feet and had his rifle leveled, leaving his knife on the ground.

"Show yourself!" Captain Arthur's voice boomed through the Lieutenant's helmet as all the other marines and the four Goliaths around the perimeter turned to see what was going on.

"_As you wish."_ An eerily cold voice answered, sending violent shivers down Morebery's spine. He could only watch in shock as the air in front of the Captain shimmered, waved and stretched.

* * *

Captain William Arthurs held his rifle tightly as the air in front of him shimmered and stretched until a humanoid a little taller than he was stood before him. The being was obviously in some kind of exo-suit, similar to his own, but smoothed and far more streamlined, and unlike the golden officer bars painted on his suit, the one in front of him bore no markings at all… it was just so… black. Suddenly, the Captain's memory kicked in and he remembered the Armed Forces Orientation Film he had watched in his basic military training, some fifteen years ago. He instantly recognized everything from the Artemis-6 Stealth Suit, to the C-10 Canister Rifle, to the three glowing lights of the ocular implants where a normal person's visor and eyes should have been.

It spoke again in it's eerily cold, surreal voice,

"_Ghost reporting."_

* * *

So how did you like Chapter 2? I know, I know, not enough combat, but don't worry there WILL be action right from the start of Chapter Three, promise. Anyways hope you like my introduction of the Ghost's… If you have any questions about anything ask in the "review" box and I will try to address them in preface for chap3. anyways, back to writing,

Cheers,

-silverphantom


	3. Reality Check

Disclaimer: All vehicles and species etc (anything that comes from Starcraft) are property of Blizzard Inc. and NOT mine … and uh… same as all the other stuff that everybody else puts in their disclaimers.

Hey everyone… by now the only people still reading this will be those dedicated to the series so I'm going to skip my usual "realistic writing/made up designations" etc bit. So now, I present with Chapter 3 of "Hitting the Beaches". The long wait is over, I have spent the past four thousand some words leading up to this point, where my story really takes off. Here the Zerg finally come into this Human/Zerg equation.

I apologize for the long wait between Ch.2 and 3. Initially this chapter was over 6,000 words long but during one of my editing scans I decided to split it up into two. All I can say is that because of this, it adds suspense, andyou won't have to wait long for Chapter 4 ;).

OH! Just to get one thing straight. I base my view of Marines on the cutscene image from the game. Humans are fully enclosed in self-sustaining exosuit. Because of this, a breach causes venting of atmosphere, killing the person inside. Also, because they are enclosed, the only way to communicate is with inter-Marine radios… got it? Cool.

As promised, any questions asked in the "Review" section will be answered;

JackTheHacker: You asked why someone cleaned off the Signaling Beacon in Chapter 2. Basically, I needed a way for the Captain to know someone was still at the site, I couldn't use footprints or such because I figured that the "Elite" and "Supernatural" Ghost's would not be so careless. What I had in mind was that the Ghost was keeping the beacon clean to make sure it didn't get damaged or interfere with the signal strength. Guess I forgot to write that bit in. Thanks for pointing it out.

Without further ado,

* * *

Hitting the Beaches

_Chapter 3: Reality Check_

"What was that?" Private McLaughin asked Sergeant Clarkins as Captain Arthur's distinct voice yelled fiercely over the radio. All five men stopped at the sound and turned to look back at the clearing, which was blocked by one of the many rolling hills of the area. Sgt. Anthony Clarkins gripped his rifle a little tighter and waited for any other voices to come over the radio.

Nothing.

Looking up, he could still see the six lethal-looking Wraith Fighters executing their lazy orbit pattern some three hundred feet over the clearing where the Captain and the rest of his fellow Marines where waiting.

"Can't be anything serious, the Wraiths would have done something by now if there was a problem. We'll carry on. The Captain probably scratched his rifle on a rock or something." The three Privates and the single Corporal accompanying Clarkins chuckled lightly and turned back to follow the Sergeant on the patrol. _Everyone _knew how paranoid the Captain was about his rifle.

"So how do you think the rest of the Company is doing? Down at the landing area? The real landing area I mean?" One of the other Privates asked Clarkins hesitantly. _Kids_, Anthony thought_, green recruits are always so full of questions. Was I ever like that?_ Clarkins could barely remember his 'green' days as a "Bunker Boy" on the shipyard planet Kailor II. He still had no recollection of how he survived the day the Zerg invaded _that_ system.

"I'm not sure, probably onto the secondary objectives by now." Anthony lied. This system was only supposed to be lightly entrenched by the Zerg, and the sheer amount of overwhelming firepower that the 5th Fleet was committing to this invasion was forecasted to eliminate any opposition with ease. But the Sergeant knew better. The Zerg were _always_ stronger than you thought, _always _more entrenched than you anticipated, and _always_ hit you harder than you were prepared for. The rest of the Company was probably fighting for their very lives by now, screw the objectives. But there was no use scaring these new kids, they would find it all out for themselves soon enough. These days it didn't take long to become an experienced veteran, not when the enemy on the battlefield was comprised of hideous monsters from the darkest depths of nightmares. The Private's question answered, the group continued on their march through the rocky, barren terrain.

"Sarge! Sarge! Come take a look at this!" Clarkins turned around and headed up to the Corporal who was looking at the rocky ground.

"What is it?"

"Can't believe I didn't see it earlier, see how the soil looks a little more solid? Beaten in? I'd say we found ourselves a path." The Corporal mused, taking notice that he had caught something the Sergeant hadn't. It wasn't too often that a grunt observed something Clarkins missed; his combat skills were near legendary within Tiger Company. Scanning the path, Anthony noted that it ran almost perpendicular to the path he took. He had walked right across it and not noticed; not a good sign for the still young Sergeant. He didn't want to think he was slowing down already. Looking in both directions, he concluded that the path seemed to lead back to the clearing where his transport was still waiting.

"Well I'll be damned," Clarkins said, standing upright, "Good find Corporal, it's got to lead somewhere, let's check it out." Starting off down the newly found path, Clarkins took extra care to survey _every_ little detail before him. He wouldn't give the Corporal the satisfaction of showing him up again. After all, he had to make sure these new, green privates thought of him not only as a senior rank, but as a combat God.

One meter beneath the ugly rocky soil, the loud vibrations of ten exosuited feet trudging through the terrain caused two beady, blood red eyes to snap open. Within seconds, the information was passed on, and receiving the order to wait, the two eyes closed once again.

* * *

Two kilometers away from Sergeant Clarkins' patrol, Captain Arthurs still had his C-14 rifle aimed squarely at the head of the Ghost that had appeared before him.

"Who the hell are you?" He growled.

"I am Ghost AN-334, Number 12 Commando." The Ghost spoke in it's eerie, cold tone. "You took your time coming to get us. I assume the objective is safe?"

"What objective?" Lieutenant Morebery asked, shivering as the Ghost focused his ocular implants on him.

"The Arbiter? I saw it break formation and… wait. Your thought patterns tell me that this information is new to you." The 'eyes' turned, "And to you as well Captain. Are you not members of Imperial Guards?" The question hung uneasily for a few seconds.

"Imperial?" Captain Arthurs spoke, breaking the silence. "You mean one of Mengsk's troops?"

"You are not one of the Emperor's soldiers? Then who are you?" The Ghost asked, his tone becoming sharper with each word. Slowly, Arthurs' skull began to ache, as if someone was slowly compressing his brain. He tightened his grip on the rifle.

"Get out of my head asshole, or I'll blow yours off." He growled fiercely.

"You memory tells of the destruction of the Empire by your… U.E.D… is this true?"

"Get out, NOW!" Arthurs screamed as the headache increased rapidly. Then suddenly, it was gone.

"I did as you asked, now answer me." The Ghost stated, slowly adjusting it's grip on it's C-10 canister rifle.

"Yes…" Lt. Morebery answered hesitantly, "Mengsk's Empire has been destroyed. The U.E.D. has taken control of all Terran assets in this area until delegates from Earth can arrive to restore order."

"An intriguing development." The Ghost spoke before coming to the only logical course of action; he had been waiting too long on this desolate, infested world to turn away possibly his only chance of rescue. Slinging his C-10 into the holster on the back of his Artemis-6 suit, the Ghost's ocular implants turned to Arthurs.

"Captain, on behalf of my Syndicate, I wish to defect to this U.E.D." It said coldly. The Captain, still looking at the Ghost down the barrel of his rifle could not fully comprehend what was happening.

"Your Syndicate?" He asked. As if on cue, eight more Ghosts shimmered into existence a dozen or so meters behind the first. By now the Goliaths and other Marines were intently focused on the happenings inside their perimeter. A few had their rifles leveled on the new apparitions like their Captain did, but most just stood there in disbelief. Half had never even heard of a "Ghost" before.

"Yes Captain, and please, you may put down your weapon, if we planned on doing you harm, you platoon would have been dead by now." Captain Arthurs slowly lowered his C-14.

"So…" Morebery said slowly, his rifle now too by his side, "Now what?"

* * *

Still walking down their 'path' Sergeant Clarkins' eyes caught something on the otherwise indistinctive ground. Crouching down for a better look he stared at the dirt while the other four took a quick rest.

"What's up Sarge?" One of the Privates asked, laying his rifle down and sitting on one of the numerous large rocks that were scattered across the lifeless terrain.

"The soil here is mixed… some parts normal and other parts a bit darker, like it's recently been churned up... Almost like-" The Sergeant's heart skipped a beat as he caught himself in mid sentence. Looking quickly around him… _there,_ he thought seeing another half-meter round section of soil that looked a little darker than the rest of the soil. Still looking, he found four more spots in the immediate area where the soil was slightly darker than everywhere else. Standing up slowly he took a few careful steps backwards, bringing up his rifle as he did so.

"Pick up your weapon Private," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the patches of soil, "From now on nobody makes any noise, got that? I think we just stumbled upon some burrowed Zerg." Instantly, all four of the other Marines stiffened and leveled their own weapons, hastily clicking the safety's off. Slowly the group started moving back up the path towards the dropship clearing, always facing the six patches of dirt.

A dot of movement on the horizon caught one of the Private's attention. Focusing on the object the young man stared intently as the dot grew larger and larger and slowly split into two objects in his visor. They were coming closer at an alarming rate.

"Sar… Sarg…" He stammered.

"What is it?" Clarkins hissed.

"Wha… What is that?" The Private spurted out as the rest of the squad noticed the two fast moving objects. They came closer and closer, staying the same height above the ground, never deviating from their path. They flew right over the squad at high speed, and all five heads turned quickly to follow them as they screamed silently by.

"Whatever they are, they're moving towards the clearing." The Corporal muttered quietly. All the blood instantly drained from Sergeant Clarkins' face. Quickly, Clarkins switched frequencies on his radio, frantic panic causing his hand to shake uncontrollably as he did so. Although he had little memory of his original posting on Kailor II, he did remember seeing those fast moving creatures through the view slots of his bunker… right before the Battlecruiser _Devastator _was erased from history.

* * *

Captain Mike Winters was looking down at the activity in the clearing when a flashing alarm from his sensor screen bathed his cockpit in yellow light.

"Whoa!" Raptor Four's voice crackled over the radio, "I'm picking up two fast-movers, low-level, heading this way."

"I'm picking them up too, they must be hostile. How the hell did they get so close?" "Shrike" Winters replied looking at his own sensors. The unknown contacts had just magically appeared under six kilometers away. His sensors should have picked them up ages ago.

"They must have been masking from our sensors in the rocky terrain." Raptor Two's voice called out, but Shrike was already moving.

"Raptor Three and Four, intercept the targets. Five and Six, stand by. Two come with me. We're going up for a better view in case there's more of them." Shoving his throttles full forward Winters felt himself shoved into the back of his seat as the twin high-performance engines catapulted the small fighter forward. Pulling back on his joystick viciously, Shrike's fighter rocketed skyward, drastically improving the range of his low-level sensors. Craning to look over his left shoulder, he caught the afterburner plumes of Raptor Three and Four heading after the incoming contacts.

"Tally-ho! I see them, attack radar painting now!" Raptor Three's voice called out. _Scourges_, Winters thought_, that's the only thing that can move that fast_.

"I've got tone! Missiles away!" Raptor Three continued. Still looking over his shoulder Shrike could see smoke trails leaping from Raptor Three and Four. No fewer than six missiles shot from the hard points on the Wraith's three 'wings'. Watching the smoke trails arc to their targets, Shrike suddenly realized that he was safe; the Scourges weren't tracking for his Fighters. That meant only one thing; they were going for the transports. Switching frequencies he thumbed his transmitter,

"Rover, get your ass moving, you've got hostiles inbound!" He yelled out quickly, but still looking over his shoulder, first at the flying creatures, and then at the Sparrow missiles, his specially conditioned brain did the time, speed, distance calculations for him.

* * *

For both Lt. John "Sparky" Evans and his co-pilot 2Lt. Steven "Charlie" Marley, who were catching a little rest in their reclined seats on the flight deck of Rover One, the message from Marine Sergeant Clarkins reached them first.

"Dropships! This is Sergeant Clarkins, we've just been overflo-" The frantic voice over the radio hissed as Raptor One's voice started shouting on the same frequency, resulting in a ugly tangle of static and English that came out as almost total garbage.

"What the hell was that all about?" Lt. Evans asked as both he and Charlie sat up in their seats. Pulling his helmet back over his head, Sparky pulled the microphone boom to his lips and thumbed the transmitter,

"You guys mind taking turns? I didn't get any of tha-" But he was caught mid-sentence as the world outside of his viewports erupted into a red and orange inferno.

* * *

Captain Arthurs was just about to call Lt. Evans to report the whole Ghost issue when he heard the multiple low booms of afterburners engaging from several of the Wraiths overhead. As everyone looked up to the sky Arthurs watched two Wraiths bank sharply upward and accelerate vertically, growing smaller by the second. Flashes to his left caused him to look at the two Wraiths that were accelerating rapidly from one side of the clearing to the other. The flashes were from the missiles that were systematically leaping from the rails and shooting quickly at… _what?_ He asked himself. Someone was yelling over the radio but the Captain was too far in shock to care or notice what was being said, or who was saying it. Leading his eyes ahead of the missiles he caught a glimpse at what must have been the target… two small objects, close together and moving extremely fast, only fourty or so feet above the ground. In the corner of his eyes he caught one of the Goliath's pivoting it's central module skyward. With a hydraulic whine, the metal covers slid back, unveiling the two air-to-air Hellfire missile batteries on either side of the Goliath's cockpit, but it was taking far too long. Captain Arthurs and fifty-two other Marine's and Ghost's watched helplessly in shock as one by one each of the Wraith's missiles missed and the two objects came closer and closer until they vanished from the Captain's vision, disappearing behind one of the dropships. For a split second, blissful silence ensued.

But only for a split second.

Arthurs didn't even have time to blink as the two Scourges slammed through the dropship's neosteel hull plating and sliced through the primary fuel tanks running down the sides of the transport. A geyser of white, blue and red flame erupted from inside the dropship, shooting out the still lowered ramp at the tail of the transport in an unstoppable fireball. Before his very eyes, Arthurs watched the dropship not twenty meters away bulge, stretch, and finally fragment in a fierce explosion of white and red light, an eternity of events that took all of one second. The force of the explosion picked him up off his feet and had him flung through the air as another split second later the sound shockwave hit him, further accelerating the Captain as he was flung mercilessly.

* * *

Hey that was Chapter 3 of "Hitting the Beaches". I apologize for the crappy ending but the next little bit is mass confusion for the Terrans, and I didn't know where the best spot to divide Chapter 3 and 4 was… That being said, I'll get Chapter 4 up ASAP.

As before, any questions ask in the review section and ill do my best to answer in the next chapter's preface. Anyways, back to homework,

Cheers,

-silverphantom


	4. Recovery

Disclaimer: All vehicles and species etc (anything that comes from Starcraft) are property of Blizzard Inc. and NOT mine … and uh… same as all the other stuff that everybody else puts in their disclaimers.

Hello everyone… first things first… TERRIBLY sorry for the incredibly long wait… honestly you have probably already forgotten about this story by now but… oh well I really want to finish it… eventually…  
I have been very busy lately with homework and out-of-school activities… but that is no excuse for a gap of several months... none-the-less here you are… Chapter 4 of Hitting the Beaches…

* * *

Hitting the Beaches

_Chapter 4: Recovery_

A flash of white light lit up the terrain and just as quickly disappeared, followed by a low _whump_ as the sound shockwave ripped through Sergeant Clarkins. It was enough to cause his exosuit's computers to skip slightly but not enough to throw any of the Marines off their feet.

"Mother of God." Clarkins muttered incoherently as all five Marines watched a fast-rising, blood red fireball emerge from the dropship clearing before the artificial atmosphere from the destroyed dropship burned up, and the flame disappeared, leaving only thick black smoke. A few seconds later the bolts, shrapnel and other pieces of the once functioning transport started raining down on the five marines as the pieces completed their last, two kilometer flight.

"We've got to get back there!" The Corporal screamed out, the first to gather his wits back as pieces of metal tinkered off his metal suit, "Those ships are the only way out of here!" He broke into a run back up the path, quickly followed by the three Privates. Not to be left behind Clarkins too began to run. Everything had just happened too fast, too suddenly, just putting one foot in front of the other seemed nearly impossible.

* * *

Several hundred kilometers away, the voice of Mynor VI's Cerebrate reached out and found her minions, one meter beneath the rocky surface. Beady, blood red eyes snapped open and the simple brains echoed with only one thought.

_ Kill._

* * *

Behind Sergeant Clarkins, several fountains or soil shot up into the sky, the vibrations in the ground causing the Marine to look over his shoulder. What he saw was six slimy, scale covered creatures that almost resembled dogs.

But these were no dogs.

Each creature snapped and stretched it's jaws before turning their heads to look for prey. The twin blood red eyes found the scurrying Marines almost instantly. All six screeched shrilly and started sprinting forwards, kicking up soil behind them as they began to close the distance to their human prey. Eyes spread wide in fear, Anthony Clarkins stumbled and fell to the ground in a tangled heap. Rolling onto his back he swung his rifle to bear at the six nightmarish creatures that were closing upon him. Too deep in panic to line up his sight, Anthony just pulled the trigger all the way back, initiating the full automatic firing mode. The rifle obeyed instantly and the fiberglass weapon bucked wildly in his hands and round after round of depleted uranium shells leapt forward, burying themselves into the leading two zerglings. The six slits at the end of his rifle flashed repeatedly with the star-style design that had been the trademark of human manufactured rifles since the M-16 of centuries ago. The resulting flashes blocked Clarkins view of his attackers but within seconds the rifle had emptied it's fifty round clip and clicked rapidly, the hammer hitting nothing but the empty chamber. Clarkins' eyes widened even more as he still saw five zerglings bearing down on him. Jettisoning the empty clip, his left hand reached to his belt for another. The magazine slipped from his shaking, exosuited hand and fell to ground. As Clarkins moved his hand to reach for it he knew he was going to be too late.

A wall of yellow tracers flashed over his head and the leading Zerglings exploded in a splash of blood and intestines. The ground around the Zerglings churned violently and more rounds buried themselves inside the remaining creatures, causing them collapse to the ground skidding forwards; or exploding into bloody carnage. Three seconds of rifle chatter echoed through Anthony Clarkins head before silence reached him. Looking to where the zerglings were, he could see nothing but carcasses, forearms, and streams of the deep red blood. He was still shaking violently and uncontrollably.

"Sergeant let's go!" he heard the Corporal's voice scream at him through the speakers in his exosuit. Taking another rapid, shallow breath, he rolled over, pushed himself up, and started moving towards the four other Marines, all of which who were placing fresh magazines into their still smoking C-14's.

"You okay Sarge?" The Corporal asked, "We've got to make it back, I think the Zerg finally realized we're here." Nodding quickly the Sergeant and four Marines started back into their run. Finally regaining some control over his violent shaking, Anthony Clakrins reached to his belt and inserted another magazine clip into his rifle, the other clip still lying on the ground where the Sergeant had left it. Slowly, Anthony forced himself to relax, and one by one the past five years of his life played before him… _Kailor II, Tlorkin VIII, Tieferon, Vifactr I_… each invasion relived itself fully in a matter of seconds. Clarkins watched and slowly relearned every hard fought lesson from those days he was lucky to have lived. Slowly his breaths became deeper and stronger, the displays in his visor began to mean something once again to his eyes, and most importantly his rifle felt familiar in his hands.

But the Marines had only covered about another hundred meters of the two kilometers back to the clearing when another set of vibrations through the ground and caused the Sergeant to look back over his shoulder.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! More Zerglings!" One of the Private's screamed. Clarkins took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to live, and that meant putting his fear aside. Stopping, he turned around dropped to one knee, bringing the rifle to his shoulder as he did so. Looking down the open iron sights of the rifle he pressed the button for the rangefinder. Two hundred yards was instantly displayed onto his visor and Clarkins ever so slightly raised the barrel. Before him, six stationary target boards sat there waiting for him. He pulled the trigger back halfway, keeping the rifle in the three-round burst firing mode.

_ Tack-Tack-Tack_

The rifle barked as the lead zergling collapsed to the ground, two of the three rounds ripping through the creatures' skull. Clarkins watched as the fallen target board materialized into the bleeding corpse of a zergling. He looked only for an instant, as there were still two more boards waiting for him. The Sergeant quickly shifted aim.

_ Tack-Tack-Tack_

_ Tack-Tack-Tack_

Two more Zerglings fell.

Having realized their Sergeant was no longer running with them the other four Marines had stopped and looked on.

"Holy shit Sarge!" The Corporal screamed angrily, "why the hell didn't you do that the first time!"

"I was scared," Clarkins stood, turned, and answered quietly. Behind him more fountains of dirt erupted and three cobra like creatures emerged from the soil, their twin jaws snapping wildly and their two curve-bladed forearms swung viciously as they screeched out with a more fearsome voice than any zergling. The Sergeant could see the gaping mouth of one of the Privates and knew instantly he was in trouble.

"DOWN!" The Corporal screamed as Sergeant Clarkins' leg relaxed and gravity pulled his body to the ground. Looking ahead at the three Privates and Corporal, all of them leveled and opened up with their rifles and another four second barrage of fully automatic rifle chatter echoed through the Sergeant's exosuit. As suddenly as it began, the wall of tracers ended and all the Marines reached for another magazine. Clarkins immediately pushed himself up and spun on one knee sweeping his rifle to the direction of the Marine's fire. Three more carcasses had joined the three zergling bodies on the dirt.

_ Hydralisks,_ the Sergeant thought instantly, _this just keeps getting worse_. Suddenly more fountains of dirt erupted further away from the Marines, as over two dozen zerglings and Hydralisks were being summoned by their ever-watching cerebrate. She had underestimated these humans, and would not make that mistake again. She called upon all her creatures in the area, waking her minions from their long slumber.

"Time to go, now! Run!" The Sergeant bellowed as the five Marines continued their sprint back towards the dropship clearing. He was no match for that many of these hellish creatures. The pillar of black smoke loomed larger and larger as Sergeant Clarkins only now realized that the Wraiths were still flying overhead, _how could I have forgotten those?_ He thought. Fountains of dirt to his far right signified more and more Zerg creatures coming to life.

"Damnit! RUN FASTER!" Clarkins screamed to his Marines as he pivoted his torso to snap off a few rounds at two Zerglings that were closing far too fast. Dispatching both he changed his radio frequency and frantically screamed into the microphone.

* * *

"Wraiths!" A panicked, strained voice panted through his headset. Shrike Winters shook his head to clear the effects of the sound shockwave that had rocked his fighter. Slowly his brain began to compute the words that were screaming at him.

"This is Sergeant Clarkins on the ground, we're under two kilometers south of the clearing and under attack by large numbers of Zerg forces! Request immediate air support! Shit, we NEED air support!" The voice crackled. Looking out of his cockpit, Winters could see the fragmented remains of one of the dropships in the clearing. Remarkably, the other seemed relatively intact. Thankfully, the added altitude he had climbed seconds before the explosion had saved him from everything aside a dull headache. Shaking his head once more he began to give orders.

"Five and Six, go see what the hell this guy is talking about. Three and Four you guys okay down there?" He asked, seeing a Wraith several hundred feet fellow him circling very slowly. Out the other side of his cockpit he could see what must have been Raptors Five and Six pulling poorly coordinated turns and heading away from the clearing. They were a lot closer to the explosion than he had been and were probably shaken up considerably more.

"I'm okay." He heard Raptor Three's voice call out slowly with a slight slur. "Just a little shook up… I think the computer put me on autopilot when I lost control in the explosion… wait… I'm showing a power drain… I'm bleeding energy from the sensor systems. I'm going to have to shut them down. I think I took some hits from shrapnel…"

"Can you make it back to the Fleet?" Winters asked without thought. A fighter without weapons was as useless as an ejection seat without a parachute.

"I think so, but I've lost engine two… I'll be limping." Came the slow reply.

"Good, then bug out… where's Raptor Four?" Winters asked, realizing he hadn't seen him yet.

"I don't know… I don't see him… Ohhhhhh shit no…" Raptor Two replied looking back into his memory, "I saw him go through the explosion… I didn't see him come out… Oh God no…"

"It's all right Kevin, okay? I'll see you ship-side." Looking again he could see Raptor Three slowly pull skyward, and in a series of small flashes the remaining missiles on the fighter's hard points jettisoned and dropped lifelessly to the surface. With the sensor system useless and the fighter limping on one engine, they were nothing but dead weight now. Changing his focus,

"Raptor Two, you all right?"

"About as good as you are Shrike," Came the reply. "I'm you're five o'clock, a little low. A little shaken up but… oh damn… Shrike we got incoming, two more fast-movers, bearing one-zero-seven, twenty-six kilometers out. Looks like they were masking, but we're high enough to see 'em now." Raptor Two finished, his voice becoming stronger with each word. Activating his attack radar, Shrike pulled his fighter into a tight right turn and set himself up with the new inbounds. The distance was now twenty two kilometers and closing fast. Off to his right he could see another Y-shaped Wraith pull into his view and the masked pilot in the cockpit gave him a nod. Still too far away to see with his eyes, Winters focused onto the green target box and distance information that was being projected onto his canopy. The latter was decreasing rapidly.

"Rover, this Raptor Lead. If you can hear me, get your ass off that ground, there's more Scourges inbound." He said into the radio. A sudden tone went off in his is helmet, repeating every second. The attack radar had acquired the target and was now feeding the information to the twenty seven air-to-air missiles on the Wraiths hard points. Patiently, Shrike waited for the steady tone of a solid lock, but the high speed and small target profile was taking its toll on the missile's small, individual targeting systems. Meanwhile the distance between his accelerating fighter and the lighting quick Scourges decreased incredibly fast. _19…18…17…_Winters counted off the kilometers_, 16… come on, lock damn it!_

* * *

Lieutenant John Evans slowly opened his eyes and closely examined the cold steel floor of his flight deck. Closing he eyes tightly, Evans desperately tried to make the pounding in his head cease, but to no avail. Slowly he picked himself up off the cold deck and tried to piece together what had happened. Looking around he found himself at the back of the flight deck; the control panels and his still reclined seat ahead of him. Somehow he had gone from sitting in his seat, to up, over the reclined backrest and onto the floor at the back of the flight deck.

Standing fully upright, heslammed his head against one of the transport's roof panels in the small, confined flight deck. Instinctively reaching to his head he felt a large dent in the back of his flight helmet. Taking it off, he saw that the back left quarter of his normally round helmet was nearly flat. Looking around, he found part of a roof panel above his seat that was completely smashed beyond use.

_ Damn,_ Evans thought, _they are actually good for something. That explains the headache._ Sliding slowly back into his seat on the left side of the cockpit he pulled up the backrest. Only then Evans noticed for the first time that Charlie hadn't said anything to him. Looking to his right, the dropship pilot's stomach instantly leapt to his throat.

His twenty three year old co-pilot was lying half on and half off of his still reclined seat. His feet and legs were still by the rudder pedals, but his upper body was shoved against the rightmost panel and window, the latter of which was smeared with blood and pink liquid which must have been cranial fluid. Charlie's helmet was still resting on the co-pilot's control column where he had placed it after shutting down the engines. Evans pulled on Charlie's left shoulder and the body slumped lifelessly into the reclined seat. The body was intact, except for the head which had a deep gash running from the forehead, through the right eye, and down to the chin. Looking to where the body had rested Evans could see the bloodstained sharp edge between the right side panel and window that had ended his co-pilot's life.

It was too much for the transport pilot, whose job rarely saw so much gore. Evans' body convulsed violently and he threw up onto the floor between his feet. Bright red s blood was mixed with his vomit. John Evans wiped his mouth and felt himself slump deeper into his seat as he looked straight ahead, not seeing anything.

The sound of incoherent mumbling brought him back into reality. Slowly looking around he looked down to the dented helmet that had saved his life, which he was still holding in his lap. Picking it up, he slowly pulled the neosteel helmet back over his head. Instantly the incoherent mumbling turned into real words as the built-in headphones settled around his ears

"-hear me, get your ass off that ground, there's more Scourges inbound." The radio hissed in his throbbing ears. _Scourges,_ he thought, _is that what had happened?_ A memory of panicked radio calls and a sudden inferno outside his canopy floated to the surface of his mind. _But that must have meant…_ Evans thought as he finally solved the puzzle and turned to look out the left windscreen where less than five minutes earlier Rover Two: Zulu Twelve, had sat.

What sat there instead was two distinct sections of neosteel that vaguely resembled the front and aft halves of an U.E.D. dropship. The top half of the ship was completely gone, the explosion having ripped the neosteel panels right off, leaving only the bare skeleton-like framework of the lightly armoured roof. Extremities like the tail were no longer attached to the… ship, they had just… disappeared… and pieces of metal various sizes lay scattered amongst bodies of… _men_? Evans paused as he watched one piece of gray metal move and slowly get up, revealing itself as a Marine.

"Rover! I say again, get your ass moving! These things are coming in fast!" Sparky's headset screamed at him. Looking back inside the canopy, Evans noted for the first time that his panels were still lit up, which made no sense because his HUD display was off. Looking above his head he could see the HUD projector lens cracked… It was useless. _Damn_… Evans thought. Thankfully the transports were built with two eight inch glass monitors that displayed the same information, just in case the HUD failed. Looking at the panel directly in front of him one of the screens was spider webbed. The other was still intact but displaying random and confusing images. Smashing his fist on the top of the panel the screen flickered and his artificial horizon and battery indicator appeared on the screen.

"Thank you." Evans smiled as a flash outside caught his attention. The two black dots that must have been the Wraiths that were screaming at him were flashing repeatedly… Those could only be the fighter's Sparrow missiles. His smile fading quickly Sparky recalled the engine-start checklist from memory.

"All right," Sparky said reaching and flicking two switches, engaging the port magnetos, "Charlies, give me fuel boosts for engines one and two."

Silence followed.

"Char-" Evans began as he reached for the throttles. Looking to his right his throat once again moved to his throat as he remembered that he was alone. Suddenly the switches, buttons and panels inside the once cramped cockpit looked infinitely bigger to the single pilot. Taking a deep breath, Evans reached across his co-pilot and held down two switches on the far side of the cockpit. The welcoming sound of the two boost pumps shoving raw fuel into the engines greeted him. After counting to three Sparky released the switches and pressed the two igniters above his own head. Two muffled booms sounded somewhere behind him as engines one and two ignited and their individual turbines started spinning. Quickly shoving the two throttles full forward the ship vibrated lightly before the throttles were pulled back into idle.

_ Fifteen seconds_… Evans thought as he once again reluctantly reached over for the boost pumps to engines three and four… _this is taking too long…_

* * *

Twin sudden _whumps_ followed by a whining rumble caused Captain Arthur's eyes snapped open inside his exosuit. The green-tinged blackness of space greeted him. His head continued to rumble fiercely no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes to try and shut it out. It took him only another few precious seconds to realize that it wasn't his head that was rumbling… it was something bigger. Slowly rolling onto his stomach he lifted his head and looked at the side of the dropship that had delivered him to this clearing. Slowly lifting himself a few inches off the ground he felt something pick him up and lift him onto his feet. Turning around he looked right into the ocular implants of AN-334.

"Are you hurt Captain?" A voice asked through the speakers in his exosuit.

"No, I don't thi-" Arthurs paused as he looked behind the Ghost to see the two legs of a Goliath, but the rest of the machine was gone, leaving only the exposed wiring that had once connected the legs to the command module. Taking a step back he tripped and fell to the ground. Quickly standing back up he looked down and looked down at Lieutenant Morebery… or rather the top half of the Lieutenant; the legs were off somewhere to the Captain's left, held in place by a neosteel plate that was embedded into the ground. Looking further to his left Arthurs looked at the decimated remains of Rover Two…

"Captain, the Zerg have obviously noted your landing here, we will not be safe for long, I strongly suggest we evacuate now." AN-334 stated coldly. Still eyeing the decimated transport a Marine lumbered into the Captain's vision.

"Sergeant Kwan reporting," he spoke, sounding scared and dazed… his rifle was nowhere to be found. "Sir… what now Sir?"

* * *

Just under two kilometers away Sergeant Clarkins and his four Marines were still running for their lives. Suddenly the air outside his suit _whisped_ as a score of quills flew invisibly by as the closest Hydralisks opened up on the Marines. A shrill scream came over his headset as Anthony slowed down just enough to pivot his torso and fire off a few rounds in return and watched as one Hydralisk fell to the ground.

"Wait! Sarge wait! He's hit! He's hit!" One of the Private's screamed into his headset. Turning around he could see one of the Privates on his stomach. One of the Hydralisks quills had gone through his right quad. The boy was screaming uncontrollably and fiercely grabbing at another Private that was trying to drag him by the arm. Emptying his clip at the remaining Hydralisk the Sergeant moved towards the downed Marine. Not bothering to reload Anthony grabbed the downed Marine's arm and started trying to run again. Just ahead of him the Corporal was emptying his magazine as he too was coming back. He grabbed the other arm and all three men dragged the wounded Private through the dirt. Ahead of them the last Private was continuing to fire on the approaching Zerg swinging his rifle from to left to right frantically. Continuously looking over his shoulder Clarkins saw that the Zerg were now closing far too fast.

_ We aren't going to make it like this… _

Looking beside him, he made eye contact with the Corporal who was already waiting for the order. Clarkins nodded and both the Corporal and the Sergeant dropped the wounded Marine's arms. Pulling the other healthy Private with him Clarkins ran toward the third Private who was hastily reloading his smoking rifle. In his head set the wounded Marine was crying uncontrollably and muttering for them not leave him. Looking over his shoulder Clarkins watched the Corporal pull out his pistol, place it against the Private's visor, look away, and pull the trigger. With a lightly muffled _bang_ the visor exploded in an explosion of blood that instantly vaporized into a red mist in the thin atmosphere.

"You… You… He…Just shot…" The Private that Clarkins was pushing along mumbled incoherently. Thankfully the Sergeant was spared from answering.

"Calling ground force, this is Raptor Five, we're prepared to give you air support, where do you need it?" The voice came like an angel from heaven. Looking around in all directions behind him, Clarkins saw scattered patches of Zerg that were coming after him.

"Anywhere… just hit anywhere, they're all over the place." He replied rapidly.

"Roger, pop some smoke over yourselves and we'll start blasting everything else." Quickly reaching into the rarely used back side of his belt Clarkins pulled out a yellow smoke grenade and pulled the pin eagerly. Still running he held it high over his head and a trail of thick yellow smoke stretched out behind him. Ahead, he could make out the two sleek profiles of the fighters that were almost on top of him… _He said I was to have the smoke right?_ The Sergeant asked himself as the leading Wraith opened fire and bursts of laser fire lanced lethally towards him.

* * *

Here's the deal… I HATE this chapter… I really do… I didn't (and still don't) know how to write it and most unfortunately it is stretching itself out longer than I had anticipated…but… that's all for tonight…getting tired… and maybe once this dreadful chapter is out of the way… I can get on to the scenes I'm looking forward too and really get back into this… till then,

Cheers,

silverphantom


End file.
